


rarissime

by onetrueobligation



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, honestly the fluffiest thing i've ever written, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 06:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18277508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onetrueobligation/pseuds/onetrueobligation
Summary: dolokhov goes out of his way to do something nice and tries not to regret it too much.





	rarissime

**Author's Note:**

> i legit never thought i could write anything this ridiculously cutesy. and yet here we are. i've been feeling pretty low this week and so honestly this was my go-to coping mechanism and i'm not sorry. enjoy.

It’s ridiculous. It’s a completely stupid idea. It’s possibly one of the worst ideas he’s ever had, and in fact, it isn’t even his idea to begin with, because Helene was the one who suggested it and even she couldn’t make it through the first sentence without dissolving into a fit of laughter. It’s completely absurd. It’s such a terrible idea that he considers turning around and making a run for it and pretending none of this ever happened.

 

And yet, here he is, Fyodor Dolokhov, feared assassin, buying flowers for the man he loves.

 

He’s never felt so horribly out of place in his life. He doesn’t recall ever setting foot into a store like this before. Everything is far too bright and colourful and the perfume of flowers is almost enough to make him want to throw up. All he has to do is find a godforsaken bouquet and get out of here as quickly as possible.

 

This does not prove to be as easy a task as he’d imagined.

 

The florist, a pretty woman with a smile far too bright who looks like she eats sunshine and rainbows for breakfast, asks him what he’s looking for and begins to take him through the various meanings of every species of flower under the sun before he even has a chance to think of some believable excuse to run as far away as possible.

 

It feels like she’s going to keep him there until the end of time. Jesus Christ. He’s having trouble thinking of any scene that he would find more nightmarish than this. The stench of the flowers is almost overwhelming and his eyes are watering and the damned florist won’t shut up about all these rotten flowers –

 

The worst part is that he’s beginning to feel invested in all this nonsense. He doesn’t _want_ to know the difference between lily-of-the-valley and lily-of-the-Incas and why he must never, ever, ever let himself become confused between the two, and yet suddenly he finds himself wondering if peonies would be giving Anatole the wrong idea, or if chrysanthemums are a little too obnoxious.

 

An hour later, he finally escapes the store, privately resolving that he’s never going to take the smell of fresh air for granted again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been quite a few months since he’s seen Anatole, and the young prince is as delighted as ever to see him again. Dolokhov wraps an arm around him and kisses his temple with a weary, exasperated smile, as though he hasn’t been picturing this reunion in his head every waking moment for the past week.

 

Then, almost as an afterthought, he reveals the bouquet to him, suddenly feeling terribly self-conscious about it. What if Anatole doesn’t _like_ tulips? What if he hates carnations? What if he thinks orchids are a ridiculous gift to give? Dolokhov finds he may be more invested in this bouquet than he originally thought.

 

But Anatole’s face lights up, and he takes the bouquet with glee and tugs Dolokhov into such a lovely, passionate kiss that he begins to think perhaps the ordeal of buying those flowers for him was all worthwhile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you guys already know how much i love comments


End file.
